I looked about and 'round the peach went on borders. Rather than new, the diner was a perfect stranger against my most familiar recollection. A few seconds later I guess, I found myself going over the menu like leafing through blank pages, asking 'why the hell isn't in this place what must be in it in all certainty?'. As if I got lost in translation in the middle of that awful figuring of how-did-it-ever-become-this-fine, struggling until a crew person came over to clear the hurdle out. 'Yung inasal?' I asked so. 'Po?', she snapped back with slightly puckered brows. Might not make sense to get to the bottom the way I did with the reply 'Di ba Bacolod Chicken Inasal 'to?' for her to retort 'Pancake House po ito, sa kabila 'yun,' which made all the more sense then.
Ah, ok. Shoot! What the... Didn't I look at the signage (when surest I was I did) or just shot straight in? I hurried out (so embarrassed of course) not wanting to feel more responsible to understand, only acknowledging that it's the worst case of wrong-entry to date by far, so my system should have 'prudence' ascertained at the level of virtue (this time on). Wow.
Anyway, I did not have inasal for lunch at BCI, after all. I thought twice at the sight of sizzling gambas in the menu, hence was ordered with a glass of iced coffee. Savoring the chow while laughing at my own package of weird stuff that day, a beautiful thought of 'avowal' came along.
I knew I've been capable of internalizing failures in the past but if I wouldn't relieve myself of an annoying truth (now), doomed shall I be. Self-betrayed. The old school habit of shielding with rancorous pride must be outgrown so I've decided. No time is the best time to be ready as I'm my own barrier, and knowing that further resistance does not go with good nature. The once was 'ever un-blogged' becomes noteworthy enough to have me blog the freak out. A minute of the other day, with some milliseconds of click to follow were all it took to give in to 'avowal'. And so it (which I thought highly the person deserved to know) was transmitted, though with intensity and pause somewhere, I weighed options and consequences, prior.
I managed to have given in for the first time. Managed therefore to have beaten my bad old record. Boy was that no simple task like when gasps are choked on you watching suspense unfold from bud to bloom.
It's fair to offer myself the crucial break for much too long have I tarried. Now that I have license (I suppose), I could heartily care less about tomorrow and stick to essentials. And perhaps eagle-free to soar. To finally wake up one morning and find out I'm not the same girl who used to love foolish talks. Because I'm in something new.
Never have I been this much forgiving toward myself, I swear.
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